


Ice Hell Storytime: Sleeping

by Muffinworry



Category: Don't Hug Me I'm Scared (Short Film)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-29 02:13:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3878482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muffinworry/pseuds/Muffinworry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their story was never going to be a fairytale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ice Hell Storytime: Sleeping

**Author's Note:**

> Thought I might as well put some of my tumblr bits and pieces up here. This one was part of the Ice Hell Storytime weekly prompt challenges.

Paige dances as she clatters around the kitchen. There’s a lot to do, but it’ll be worth it to see the looks on their faces. Parties don’t just plan themselves, after all, and this one is going to be special. She hums happily as she pours the batter into the cake pans.

She catches a glimpse of her own reflection and preens slightly. Most people have birthday parties, so why shouldn’t she have one too? She deserves a celebration, and their friends deserve a chance to show off their creativity by giving her presents. She does a little pirouette as she kicks the oven door shut.

“What is this? Another noisy waste of time, I suppose?” snarls a familiar voice behind her.

“Don’t worry,” she says absently, not bothering to set the oven timer (always guaranteed to annoy him). “You’re not invited.” Truth to tell, she’s not sure why he’s so annoyed with her this time. Well. Maybe because she’d started her preparations in the middle of the night. And then there’s the fact that she’d carefully tested all the special ingredients on him the week before, so that she could be sure her party would be perfect. And yes, maybe her poisons had forced him to miss his plane to that stupid watch show in Basel. Still, does he always have to take these things so personally?

“Well that’s just rude, love,” he says, leaning on the doorframe and watching her intently.

“You want to relax more,” she tells him. The trick is not to pay too much attention to him. Otherwise they’ll start fighting, or… other things, and that won’t do right now. Manny will be home from school soon, and her cake is going to need icing.

In the reflection of the kettle in front of her, she sees Tony cross the room to stand just behind her. She tenses, but keeps her movements casual. There’s a knife block on the counter to her right; she should have no problem reaching it before he can draw that fucking sword.

“You know what I want?” he says, sweeping her hair back so it falls over one shoulder. His lips brush the nape of her neck. “Some peace and quiet around here.”

She instantly jumps to full alert and lunges for the knives, but his arm flies out and catches her around the throat, jerking her back. She kicks at his instep but he pulls her back against him, and holds her immobilized.

She opens her mouth to swear at him, and feels the sting of the hypodermic at her neck. Her gasp catches in her throat as her legs buckle under her. The room spins wildly and she feels herself sliding to the floor. She tries to focus her eyes, tries to roll over and kick him, tries to get up and grab a weapon. Instead, she’s left lying on her back, blinking at the ceiling. The toe of his boot nudges her in the ribs as he moves into her field of vision.

He stands over her, looking thoughtful.

“You know,” he says, setting the needle down, and bending over her, “I think we’ll try something different.”

She glares up at him, or at least at his general vicinity, but to her surprise, he doesn’t draw his sword, or strangle her. He slides his arms under her limp body and lifts her up. As he carries her upstairs, she tries to bite him out of habit. He grins at her efforts, and she resolves that his next death is going to last as long as she can possibly make it.

Her vision is blurry, so it takes her a moment to realize that he’s putting her on her own bed. Rage and apprehension both surge through her, but her limbs are heavy and numb. She feels herself sprawl on soft blankets.

“Hmmm,” he murmurs, his voice sounding echoey and distant. “The thing is, I have important things to do right now. So while I’d love to kill you, I can’t wait around for you to come back, and try to take your turn.”

He raises an eyebrow as he studies her.

“I’m afraid you’re just going to have to stay here for a while, darling. For quite a while.” His hand moves toward her face, and she realizes too late that he’s not wearing his gloves.

“You ffu –” she manages, before it all goes dark.

***

It’s sunset when he comes back. Her room faces west – she’s always loved the late afternoon light – and it’s bathing everything around her in a soft golden glow. She feels warm and drowsy. It appears that her blankets have been tucked around her. She can’t quite lift her arms, she’s still too sleepy from his little trick, but she can turn her head to see him enter.

He sits on the edge of her bed, and gives her an interested look. His hair is gilded in the sunlight, his eyes gleaming deep bronze.

“How are you feeling?” the bastard asks in a honeyed voice. “You’ve been out for quite a while.”

“Angry,” she answers honestly.

“Mmm,” he replies. “Do you know what it’s been like with you out of things?”

She glares.

“Peaceful.” And with that, he’s bending forward to kiss her forehead, while his bare hand strokes her cheek, and oh, she is really going to have to plan something special for him because how dare he? 

The beautiful golden light darkens as her eyelids grow heavy. 

*** 

The next thing she knows, it’s morning, grey and cold and drizzling. She looks miserably up at the ceiling, her legs still refusing to respond to her commands. She’s hungry and dizzy. He hasn’t even bothered restraining her – apparently he’s too smugly confident in his powers. She’s going to have so much fun killing him for this. Just as soon as she can move.

She wonders how long that smirk of his will last when she stabs him in the gut and strangles him with his own insides. Or maybe she’ll cut off his hands and feet and watch him struggle in the pool. Poison is always fun, true, but it’s not nearly painful enough for what she has in mind. It’s been a while since she explored the garden shed; she’s almost sure she saw a chainsaw in there. Yes. That would be a good start, she decides, as she tries to make her numb fingers and toes respond to her thoughts.

Predictably, the door creaks open as she hears the clocks throughout the house chiming the hour. He steps in, cradling a mug of steaming coffee in his hands. Sits down on the edge of the bed again. Ugh. It’s been two days (at least – she has no way to really tell) since she’s eaten or drunk. The coffee smells very good. Her lips twitch, and he follows her gaze. His face lights up with a smile.

“Thirsty, darling? Do you know, we’ve never really tested how long you and I can go without eating or drinking, have we?” He raises the cup to his lips and takes a long swallow.

“I’d almost forgotten how good it tastes, when I don’t have to worry about cyanide in the grounds,” he smirks. “In any case, I’m not done with you yet – I have too much to do, and I need to concentrate on my work without your lovely little distractions.” 

Forget the complicated revenge schemes, she tells herself, just cut his throat good and hard the first chance you get.

“Oh, don’t pout, love, you haven’t died yet, so it’s still my turn.”

He pulls off one glove with his teeth, eyes on her. Tilts her chin up. Playfully touches her nose with a fingertip.

“Sweet dreams,” he says.

***

Every time she wakes after that, it gets worse, because she can’t remember how long it’s been. She’s out a little longer each time as her body slowly deteriorates. That upsets him at first, because it messes with his precious schedule, but after a while, he begins to enjoy the challenge of timing his visits. If she’s still sleeping, he’ll usually wake her up for a brief chat before sending her back. He likes telling her about his work, and the lessons he’s been planning for their friends. New people in the neighbourhood. Manny even has a girlfriend now, it seems. He talks about the weather, and some good books he’s read lately, and every time, he kisses her on the cheek and tells her to be good, and she sinks into the same dizzying slumber as always.

If she’s already awake before he comes, she watches the door, too dazed and weak to attack. She spends her lucid moments dreaming up increasingly creative and painful ways to murder him. He’s removed everything sharp from her room – it must have taken him several days alone to do that. She gazes around helplessly, but he’s nothing if not thorough. If she had even a fraction of her normal strength, he wouldn’t be able to pull this off. She admits, reluctantly, that he had a point about the party, but this, this is cheating.

When she’s not asleep, she spends her time in a grey half-waking twilight. On good days, she manages to turn her head, and she can just see out her window. Her garden is looking heartbreakingly overgrown. The roses, without careful pruning, are growing uncontrolled, and brambles are blocking the garden path, threatening to choke out her other plants.

Time passes.

***

One night, Paige swims back to consciousness with the feeling that something is different. She opens her eyes, and the dim moonlight doesn’t hurt them. The ceiling stays in one place, instead of spinning madly around. She stares down at her body and flexes her fingers experimentally. They twitch. She blinks in surprise, and tries again. Her hand lifts a few inches from the bed. Has he made a mistake? Has her body somehow reached a stasis? She can’t die from thirst or starvation, she knows that now. She can only guess that perhaps Tony’s powers are reaching their limits as her system becomes more accustomed to them.

She hears his footsteps outside her door, and quickly closes her eyes. Her mind is racing, even as she wills her heartbeat slow and even. Weak as she still is, she only needs him off balance for a second.

Over the next few days, she finds herself able to stay awake a little longer each time as her body finally begins to fight back. She pretends to sleep whenever he’s near, and when it’s safe, she works on regaining her balance and her strength. Patience doesn’t come easily to her, but she knows it’s her best chance.

One evening he comes in, as usual, and sits down on the bed beside her. Taps two – gloved – fingers softly against her cheek.

“Wake up, dearest,” he murmurs. “At least for a little while.”

His lips brush hers.

She responds.

She feels his shock as she kisses him back, but it’s immediately swept away by his instinctive need to retaliate, to hold her down and slide his arms around her and kiss her hard until they’re both panting and dizzy. Predictable.

She fights back the urge to bite, and keeps her eyes closed and her movements drowsy and unthreatening. She moans a little into his open mouth, and at that, he relaxes completely into the kiss. He barely notices as she reaches up to grab his hair between her hands. They roll across the bed together, and she ends up astride him, careful to keep her reactions slow and easy. The kiss deepens. His lips curve in an unconscious smile and without opening his eyes, he pulls her closer. She lets herself enjoy it for a few moments more.

She smiles and reaches one hand for a pillow.

***

Epilogue: Happily Ever After

Tony’s breath rushes back with a gasp, and his head jerks back as he comes to.

“Four minutes,” says an icily amused feminine voice. “Well, four-ish. You know I don’t bother with exact times. Anyway, that’s how long it took to smother you without letting you die.”

He gasps again, and coughs. His throat is burning; he can still see bright spots in front of his eyes. His arms are strung painfully high behind his head, his feet just barely touching the floor. He tries to ask a question, and fails.

“Wondering how I got you up there?” Heels tap across the basement tiles, and Paige enters his field of vision, brushing pink and blue curls back from a slightly sweaty forehead.

“Well, it wasn’t easy. But you’ve never understood, have you? It’s not about strength. It’s about using your leverage,” she pants, and hauls hard on the chain in her hands. The pressure around his wrists tightens; his shoulders scream as he’s pulled up. The chain is looped over the hot water pipe in the furnace room, and he can’t quite suppress a yelp as his skin comes into contact with the scalding hot metal.

Paige stands on tiptoe and cocks her head, smiling up at him. She pats his cheek lovingly with one hand. In the other, a razor blade glitters in the dim light.

“You haven’t died yet, darling, so it’s still my turn.”

**Author's Note:**

> I should note here that it's Oryx_Gazella's headcanon that Tony's powers can't rot Paige, they can only put her to sleep.


End file.
